


Banquet

by icaruslaughed



Series: Suptober20 [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Nightmares, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27242305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icaruslaughed/pseuds/icaruslaughed
Summary: day 27 of suptober
Series: Suptober20 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955047
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Banquet

Some nights—the good nights—the nightmares are few and far between. These nights, Dean only wakes up thrashing around in the sheets once or twice at most, allowing him to get at least four consecutive hours of sleep. The good nights are incredibly rare.

Most nights—the bad nights—he’s  _ lucky _ to get four hours total. The nightmares hound him into the wee hours of the morning, and even then he finds it hard to trust sleep. Sometimes he has to take a quick stroll to the kitchen for a glass of water, or more often a beer, before trying his hand at sleep once again. He hates these nights, but at least they keep him on his toes. The bad nights still happen too often.

Then there are the nights that happen once in a blue moon—actually, more like once in a full moon. Once or twice a month, there are the horrible nights. The ones where sleep refuses to come at all, when he relives the darkest pits of Hell, the most graphic details of the deaths of everyone he's ever cared about, the things he’s done to those undeserving here on earth when he became a Knight of Hell. He finds himself taking his habitual walk to the kitchen, then realizes he doesn’t have it in himself to go back.

Sam’s never really questioned where all the prepped meals for them to grab and go before they leave to work a case come from and Jack doesn’t eat enough real food—unless Sam makes him—to even notice in the first place. Dean, however, knows, because they come from the horrible nights. He spends hours in the kitchen since there’s no point in sleeping. 

It’s on one of the horrible nights that Cas finds him in the kitchen, frying up some chicken and vegetables. Various other meats and vegetables and desserts are already lined up on the counter, ready to be put into tupperwares until someone gets hungry. Cas’s footsteps echo through the hallway, almost unheard over the sound of sizzling but a hunter’s senses are always active. Dean whirls around, ready to have to explain himself to Sam or to tell Jack to go back to bed because it’s too late for him to be up. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. What’re you doing in here?” It’s not like Cas has been deliberately avoiding him—he thinks so anyway—but he’s been seeing less and less of his angel lately so for him to be here, now, is just a little shocking.

“I could ask you the same thing. I just heard noise coming from the kitchen and decided to investigate,” Cas replies, walking around the island to inspect all the food.

“I- it’s nothing, Cas,” Dean tried to reassure him but just ended up sounding more suspicious.

“Are you sure? Because it looks like you’re cooking a whole banquet. Is there a ceremony or something tomorrow that I don’t know about?” It’s difficult to distinguish Cas’s jokes from generous concern or curiosity, but the slight edge in his voice tells Dean that Cas really does mean it this time around.

“No, no, nothing like that. I just...” Dean sighs, debating whether or not to actually dump all of this on Cas. On the one hand, Cas is his best friend and that’s what best friends do, right? On the other hand, Cas might tell him he’s being stupid and to go back to bed. He won’t, though, because that’s just not Cas. But Cas has changed in recent years, they all have.

“Dean, you can tell me what’s wrong, you know that right?” He tries so hard to fight it as he puts the chicken into another container and turns off the stove but the crease in his angel’s eyebrows and the concern in his eyes wins Dean over, same as it has in the past.

“I get nightmares,” he blurts out, “Okay, that’s kinda obvious. But some nights they get really bad and I can’t sleep so I, you know…” He waves a hand at all the food, hoping Cas understands.

He does. “So you stress cook.  _ That’s _ where all the extra meals come from. Dean, I know you don’t want to hear it but I’m going to say it anyway: I get it, but this? This is just a little bit unhealthy, don’t you think?”

“Cas, I-“

“Come back to bed with me. Please?”

“I thought you didn’t sleep.” He doesn’t quite remember his heart beating this fast normally or his stomach twisting at the thought of sharing a bed with Cas but then again he may as well be the poster child for ignoring one’s own emotions.

“I didn’t, no. But now that my grace is weaning, I find myself subjected to more...human needs. Such as sleeping.”

“Oh.”

There’s a long pause in which they both simply stare at one another as they do often do, each waiting for the other to give in. Eventually, Dean does.

“Fine, I’ll go back to bed with you if you help me out all this in the fridge.”

“Deal.”


End file.
